


Just One Yesterday

by Ninja_Librarian



Series: Voltron Whump Week 2017 [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Day 5: Insomnia, Found Family, Gen, Grieving Allura, Massive Season 3 Spoilers!!!!!, Set during season 3, Voltron Whump Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 13:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11829360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninja_Librarian/pseuds/Ninja_Librarian
Summary: If heaven’s grief brings hell’s rainThen I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday(I know I’m bad news)For just one yesterday(I saved it all for you)Oh, I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of wayStill I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterdayDay 5: InsomniaAllura lost a lot with the fall of Altea and the rise of Zarkon.But not everything.





	Just One Yesterday

Allura sat on the floor of the bridge, her knees to her chest. Platt had fallen asleep on her shoulder hours ago, and the other mice had fallen asleep after. In her hair, beside her on the floor.

She watched as stars and planets flew past. How different were the constellations she had learned as a girl? Some stars were gone, having died centuries ago. Others were destroyed. Planets, too. Some planets she had visited as a girl were desolate wastelands now, mere shadows of what they had been when she had played with the local children.

She closed her eyes, remembering sitting on her father’s lap as he pointed out the stars, her mother telling her the stories. She choked back a sob as—unwanted—she remembered a time she had sat with Zarkon and Honerva as well as her parents and Coran and the other Paladins of old. 

Sitting on picnic blankets with a full belly, eagerly awaiting for fireworks to start—a celebration of the anniversary of the first forming of Voltron. Blayatz lazily sprawled out on his back in the grass, his lover curled up beside him. Trigel and Gyrgan and Coran laughing as they recounted some misadventure over glasses of nunville. Her parents clutched hands, feeding each other candied fruit.

Sitting between Zarkon’s folded legs—back then affectionately called “Uncle Zar”, who spoiled her with treats and toys and hugs and loved her as if she were his own child, back when he was one of her favorite people in the entire universe—as he told her about the constellations of his planet, pointing to them and repeating the names as her young tongue stumbled over the pronunciations. Honerva had taken a rare break from work, happy and leaning on Zarkon’s shoulder, her arm around his waist, her smile growing with every kiss Zarkon pressed to her cheek. Everyone still wore the flower crowns that Allura and Honerva had spent the afternoon making.

Allura remembered falling asleep towards the end of the fireworks display, and stirring slightly as she heard the adults around her laugh as Zarkon playfully refused to hand Allura over to her parents.

“As head of Voltron, I order you to let me hold the princess for five more minutes.” Zarkon said.

“As head of Voltron, you ordered her to stay up two hours past her bedtime, which is why she’s asleep right now.” Alfor responded with a small laugh. “Hand over my daughter, Zarkon.”

There was a sigh and Allura squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep as her head was laid on her father’s shoulder, her mother’s hand on her hair followed by a kiss on her forehead.

“Pity she won’t stay this small forever,” Trigel said with a sigh.

“As alchemists, we have learned to preserve many things,” Honerva said. “However, whether we like it or not, childhood is not one of those things.”

In the present, Allura sobbed.

Honerva had been right.

Childhood had not lasted long enough for the Princess of Altea.

*

Sleep evaded her.

She kept coming back to the bridge, night after night. The images haunt her in the dark. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees her father. Her mother. The fields of Juniberries. Her best friends. The former Paladins—who were uncles and an aunt to her. Zarkon then and Zarkon now…

Her father’s AI. Corrupted and corrupting.

Some nights she cried. Other nights she was stronger.

She wanted to turn back time. Ten thousand years had passed and yet grief was still fresh.

Hurt, betrayed, abandoned.

By her father, who refused to fight, who put her in cyrosleep against her will.

By Zarkon, who used to hold her as if she was the second most precious thing in the universe—the most precious thing for Zarkon was always Honerva, she knew, she had always known—now only wanted the Lions of Voltron and for her death.

By Keith, which she knew wasn’t fair, to lump him into the category of betrayal when he had done nothing but be loyal to her and their cause. But she did anyways the moment he told her and the others about the knife, and how he had awakened the blade with his own Galra blood. She wanted so desperately to keep pushing him away; he had already started to worm his way into her heart with the rest of the Paladins, and she couldn’t deal with the idea of him turning on her as Zarkon had her father, couldn’t handle the idea of Keith betraying her while wearing her father’s armor.

By Shiro… Where was he? Where had he gone? Why had he gone? The team was so lost without him and she didn’t know what to do…

She didn’t know when she had last slept.

She had slept as a result of exhaustion. She had powered the Castle’s teleduv. She had powered the large one that made their victory over Zarkon possible.

But before that… She couldn’t remember.

And after… After seeing the Black Lion on her side, on seeing the empty chair in the cockpit…

She was so tired.

But sleep still evaded her.

*

She woke up in her own bed.

Funny. She hadn’t remembered falling asleep.

Actually, the last thing she remembered was returning to the bridge from the Blue Lion’s hanger.

The alternate reality.

The Alteans.

The comet.

Lost.

Lotor.

She could hear rumbling. Was something wrong with the Castle?

No. It was Blue. Rumbling at… her? There was concern there, quite evident.

“What’s going on?” She mumbled, not sure who she was talking to.

“You are resting, now and for an indefinite period of time, Princess.”

Allura pushed herself up on her elbows as Coran entered the room, his face grim. “Coran,” She whispered. “What happened? The Castle, the Lions—Lotor?”

“You fainted,” Coran said, sitting on the bed beside her. “Do you remember? You sent the Castle through a wormhole, then you fainted. You’ve just now woken up.”

Allura’s eyes widened and she sat up. “What? How long was I unconscious?”

“Not very long, but I think we need to have a little chat, you and I.” Coran said. His eyes narrowed some. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Coran, you just said that I just woke up now,” Allura pointed out.

“Before that,” Coran said, taking her hand. His eyes were full of concern. “Princess, I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” Allura said with a small huff, turning away.

“You fainted on the bridge one too many times for my liking to be ‘fine’.” Coran countered. “Answer me honestly, now.”

“I… Coran, I…” She closed her eyes, trying to stop the tears rushing to her eyes. Unbidden, they streaked down her face, hot and fast. “I can’t.”

“Can’t answer?” Coran asked.

“Can’t sleep.” Allura whimpered, cursing herself for the weakness in her voice. “Every time I try, I… I see everyone we’ve lost, everything we’ve lost. I can’t…”

She sobbed into her hands, Coran’s arms around her.

“I can’t do this,” She whispered. “I can’t be a Paladin, I can’t be a leader, you’re wrong, Coran, I’m not a good leader like Father. I’m too weak—”

Coran held her tighter, whispering in her ear. “No, you are not weak. And you are a good leader. But you are not your father. You are not Zarkon, you are not Shiro. You are not Keith for that matter, either. Do you know why? It is because you are each a leader in your own respect. And you are not weak for grieving, Allura. I am only sorry that you have so far gone through it alone.”

She tilted her head up at feeling something wet hit her hair, and her heart broke to see that Coran’s eyes were tear-filled like her own. He gently brushed her hair out of his face with her hand. “I did not know, Allura. I would have helped you if I had known. We could have gone through this together.”

“We still can,” Allura said. “Coran, I… I miss Father. And Mother. I miss Trigel and how we would do puzzles together, and Gyrgan’s jokes, and playing in the pool with Blayatz. And I miss how Zarkon was before. I miss Altea. I miss so much… But,” She squeezed Coran’s hand, giving him a smile. “I have you. And I am glad I have you.”

Coran’s grip on her tightened.

“I thought I lost you, Allura,” He said. “When you went through that hole, then when you collapsed. Please stop scaring me like that. I can’t keep losing you. We’ve lost a lot, you and I. We’re going to keep grieving. But we’re also going to keep healing.”

Allura sniffled, nodding as she wiped her eyes. “Coran… I want you to know, you’re like a second father to me.”

“And you are like a daughter to me,” Coran told her. “We’ve always been family. And, with the Paladins, our family keeps growing.” The smallest of the mice—Chulatt—hopped up on his shoulder, chattering madly. “Yes, yes, and you four, too. You’re family, too.”

Allura laughed as the other three mice hopped into her lap, showering her with affection as well. Coran gently stroked her hair. “We’re going to find a way to help you sleep, Allura.” Coran promised. “But please don’t scare me like that again.”

Just then, the door opened and Pidge came running in, eyes wide. “Coran, you need to come open a wormhole now! Oh, Allura, you’re awake! That’s good.”

“What’s wrong?” Coran asked, getting to his feet. “Why do we need to open a wormhole.”

Pidge grinned. “Keith just commed in from his patrol. Black’s found someone we’ve been looking for.”

Allura felt her entire body go slack. Shiro. Shiro was coming home.

Her family once more complete.

Her tomorrows were starting to look brighter.


End file.
